


Magic Potion Niveous

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24956065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: Copia has some time alone, and uses it to his advantage.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Sister(s) of Sin, Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

Copia is kneeling on the hard stone floor in front of his rat cages, delicately poking strips of carrot through the bars and talking to both himself and the rats. It’s around three in the morning, but sleep is a long way from coming. He saw her again today- hair delicately pinned up, habit perfectly flowing around her curves, slight heeled shoes accentuating the shape of her body. Did she even know how he felt about her? A sigh slides through his lips unbidden.

“Bechamel, what do I do?” He opens the door of the largest cage and lifts the tan hand into his ungloved hand, relaxing his posture into a full seated position. He rubs a finger over the rat’s soft back absently, talking aloud to himself as he does. “She’s so beautiful. Do you think she’s soft? She looks so soft. Maybe I should approach her after services one day. Some of the other Sisters have made their… affections… known. Maybe she has them too? What do you think?” 

“Weeeet weeeet weeet,” Bechamel squeaks her answer in return, nose twitching up at Copia in what he perceives as either affection or indigestion. She stands up on her hind legs and gazes at him, hungrily expectant for more snacks.

“Yes, yes. Here.” Copia reaches into the front pocket of his pajamas and gives the rat a small grape. “I hid this, you know. The others just got carrots tonight.” He smiles as he watches his favourite rat chew happily for a few moments before setting her back in her cage and locking it up. “Be good, yes?” 

The Cardinal stands up slowly with a groan as his knees crack and stretches broadly, his tummy briefly exposed to the kiss of cold air in the room. He comes down from the stretch and bends down swiftly, bouncing his finger tips off of the floor and standing back up. Long days of sitting at a desk and translating texts have left him with sore muscles, and some nights it’s all he can do to stand properly without creaking. 

“We are not as young as we used to be, eh lads?” Copia looks back at the rat cages and laughs to himself, running a hand through his hair quickly. His shower could wait until the morning. For now, he was exhausted. His fingers dance quickly over the buttons of his pajama top, unbuttoning and discarding it on top of a comfortable recliner beside his bed. The bottoms are removed with the same speed and tossed aside before he flops onto his comforter with a groan, forearm slung over his eyes.

A slight breeze comes through the window beside Copia as he moves his arm to look outside. The moon is only half full and the stars are providing the majority of light from the heavens tonight. The sky resembles a black canvas that a painter has shaken a white brush out over- spotted and dappled in light. Copia sighs with contentment and turns his thoughts to the woman of earlier. 

Beautiful. She seemed to float through the halls of the Abbey, hardly not noticing how attractive she was to the Cardinal. How his every thought of late had been of her- how she smelled of dew on the pedals of a flower, how her hair seemed to shine when she turned her head, and how her smile always brought joy to his heart. Soon enough his thoughts turn to less pure places. Copia finds himself thinking of her figure in the habit, curved and begging his hands to hold her. Before long, the kiss of the breeze through the window feels like her lips, whispering praises and wishes on his skin.

The Cardinal finds his hand drifting unwillingly to the hem of his boxers, fingers toying with the idea of moving further. His thoughts bounce back and forth momentarily before finally pulling himself out, running a thumb over the head of his cock and sighing. It’s been a while since he’s done this, and the feeling is already sending a shock to his core.

“Mmm,” he hums softly to himself as he tightens his grip on his cock, stroking slowly and squeezing as he gets closer to the tip. He brings his other hand forward and cups his balls, a groan coming out unwarranted. Copia’s always loved the act of self pleasure- something about bringing your body to the peak of sensitivity and back down the other side strikes him as an act of pure beauty. To really know oneself. 

Copia keeps his thoughts diligently away from the young Sister in the congregation- he hasn’t yet made himself known to her in that way. Instead, he thinks about the people he has been with. Sensations, thoughts and body parts flash through his mind as he works himself, squeezing in intervals and thrusting his hips into his own hand. His breath is coming in small gasps and pants now, sweat beading on his forehead as he reaches his own climax.

It’s not until he plants his feet firmly on the bed and thrusts up roughly into his own hand that he cums, squeezing and milking his cock through his orgasm. His cum lands hot on his own stomach, concave through his shuddering exhalation of pleasure. Copia takes a moment to steady himself before grabbing some tissues from his nightstand and cleaning himself. He returns his gaze to the window outside.

The last thought through his mind before he drifts to sleep is the Sister, twirling gracefully through the halls of his subconscious.


	2. Papa iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People asked for a sequelle, so here's Papa iii on HIS own!

Papa Emeritus the Third held his hand up in front of him in the low candle light, studying the palm of it. Rarely did he see it nowadays without the white glove fitted over snugly it and he was surprised at how delicate the skin was. His mind snapped quickly back to the moment at hand as his other hand, almost against his will, squeezed at the base of his cock as if to say ‘get on with it’. 

“Aah,” he groans softly as he grips himself, bringing the hand he had been looking at to his plush lower lip. He toys his index finger along his lip as he moves his hand languidly along his shaft, enjoying the chance to be alone and feel himself. It doesn’t come often- he usually has someone sharing his bed. But for tonight he is blessedly, quietly alone and he plans to use his space accordingly. A little bit of self care seems to be in order tonight after a stressful day of paperwork and mass.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he eases the finger at his lips into his mouth and closes around it- suckling and running his tongue along the underside as he would with a cock. His left hand moves at an agonizingly slow pace along the length of his shaft, firmly but not enough to get him closer to an end point. Not just yet. You had to work for your own pleasure in life, and that came for moments when you were alone as well. No cutting corners here. Teasing and dancing along his own pleasure, as he did through life, was how Terzo preferred things. What good is a climax if you don’t enjoy the road that you take to get to it?

He slipped another finger into his mouth lathing his tongue between them, flicking it lewdly and groaning around himself as his thumb teased his cock head. There was no one to see him. He would do everything he wanted tonight. Spurred on by this revelation, Papa reaches to his nightstand and pumps some lube into his hand from the container that’s always (blatantly) there before returning to his cock. The cold, viscous liquid is welcoming in making the glide /that/ much nicer and a shivering moan leaves him as he strokes himself slightly faster.

Satisfied with the slickness of his fingers he finally moves his other hand from his mouth, trailing it down himself to pinch at his nipples. A small trail of spit and black paint shines wetly on his chest and he smiles, caressing his bottom lip with his tongue once again- the taste of paint is sharp and bitter, but that’s never bothered him before. It’s a taste he’s known since he was sixteen, why should it bother him now in his thirties?

He takes the time to squeeze and pinch his nipples, first the left and then the right; toying them up to rock hard pebbles until over sensitivity takes hold. He huffs a small breath of cool air down, hissing in when it reaches his nipples and squeezing his cock in a reflexive motion almost instantly. A game he used to love when he was younger involved ice or cool water- an idea he intended to revisit once he had a more experimental partner in his bed.

His hand continues its journey down his own body, carding through the smattering of hair on his stomach and winding through his happy trail before rubbing his palm over the head of his cock, smearing the precum and lube over it even more. He takes a moment to tease the head before drifting further to cup his balls, squeezing in time with his other hand as his strokes speed up- fully lost in the pleasure of his own body now. 

Small, huffed moans slide past his lips as he thrusts himself slightly into his own hand, so devoted to chasing the high of a climax that he can’t stop his movements. He dips a finger from the hand holding his balls and lightly caresses just below them, groaning loudly and biting his lip hard as he does so. His curled fist is flying along his shaft now as his hips continue their fruitless thrusting upward. 

With a final push of his finger into the flesh beneath his balls he cums, a strangled moan coming from him in bursts as he shudders through his climax, toes curling into the bed. He lays still for a moment, allowing his heart beat to regulate as he flops his arms to the sides. Just as he starts to rise from the bed for a sorely needed shower, there comes a knock on his door. 

“Papa? I heard shouting through the wall, are you well?” The Cardinal is calling through a small crack in the door, luckily facing away from Papa.

“Si, Cardinale! I am well, grazi. Good night.” Papa rolls his eyes to himself and sighs, grabbing his nearby bathrobe before shuffling off to his own shower.


End file.
